


Where No Omega Has Come Before

by fresne



Series: Voyages of the Bakerstreet [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Consent issues have nothing to do with going into heat, Dubious Consent, Mind Palace Sex, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 08:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15577710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: On a mission to find out what has happened to a missing starship, the Al-Haytham, the Bakerstreet encounters an anomaly that gives Martha Hudson, Violet Hunter, and John Watson extraordinary powers.As their powers grow, so does the danger. Can the crew reverse what has occurred before the Bakerstreet suffers the fate of the Al-Haytham?





	1. Joseph Stangerson POV

Captain's Log, Stardate 43371.1. Captain Joseph Stangerson reporting. Based on seniority, the Al-Haytham should have gone through the wormhole first. I was promised seniority when I came out of retirement and took command of one of the mothballed ships left out of Luna. But Captain Drebber barged ahead of us. Have already logged my complaint to Starfleet Command.

~~~

Captain's Log. Stardate 43389.5. Captain Joseph Stangerson reporting. Almost from the instant that we entered this cursed quadrant, the ship has been prey to a series of accidents. My chief of engineering, Commander Hope, has reported nothing but malfunction after malfunction. His only excuse is "I'm sorry sir, I'll look into it." Or "I'm sorry sir, but the Al-Haytham is an older model ship." Then a blatantly un Starfleet statement, "Maybe if the Federation doesn't have resources, they should stay out of Dominion territory. "This will be going on his permanent record, and after my XO, Commander Rachelsmoder, had to bail him out for drunk and disorderly conduct on DS9.

~~~

Captain's Log. Stardate 43399.1. Captain Joseph Stangerson reporting. Despite near constant issues, we have completed our survey of a G Class star with an asteroid belt that may serve as a location for a Starbase on this side of the wormhole. The Al-Haytham will now continue on to find out what happened to the merchant ship Callypso, render assistance as needed, and survey a safe route to her planet of destination for future Federation traffic.

~~~

Captain's Log. Stardate 43405.5. Captain Joseph Stangerson reporting. Al-Haytham encountered the wreckage of the Federation merchant ship, Callypso. The hull was ripped apart from the inside by some form of cosmic force.

I had just ordered us to half speed and was having a full scan conducted when the ship suddenly changed course and went right into an energy anomaly because of one of Hope's inadequate repairs. There was no damage to the Al-Haytham, because old or not, she's a Starfleet ship.

If there had been any damage, which there was not, we would, of course, head back through the wormhole, but we're going to complete the mission of surveying the route to planet 456.

~~~~

Captain's… Stardate… Stangerson... Two …silver… researching… ESP…Hope…Rache…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, this is a study in Scarlet. Sort of. Hope. Someone with Rache... in their name. A mysterious message. What could it all mean? Read on.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Study_in_Scarlet
> 
> For those not familiar with the concept of a mothball fleet, here's an article about the one parked near the SF Bay since WWII. In a bay, the ships slowly rusted and gave off all sorts of fun chemicals.  
> https://www.kqed.org/news/11612408/rusty-navy-the-bay-areas-mothball-fleet-enters-a-new-era
> 
> Just to be clear, Starfleet staffed up after the Borg disaster in a mix of what you've already seen on the Bakerstreet (small crew, not a lot of frills new smaller starship purpose made not to have a lot of longevity), recalling retired personnel, some of which probably should have stayed retired and refurbishing their own mothball fleets. Ships left over after various conflicts that weren't damaged, but were full of outdated tech.


	2. Enoch Drebber POV

Enoch Drebber hadn't sat around waiting while Stangerson decided if he knew how to find his privates with his right hand. Pissant old buck of an Oberth class ship making a Proxima class battleship wait. Fuck that. When he'd been pulled from command of Starbase 205 and been given command of one of the old battleships from the Romulan War, a command his grandpa served on, he knew his career was looking up. Packed up his photo of his model, Teddy Roosevelt, and went.

While Stangerson was sitting on his ass, and Holmes was still kissing up to Sisko on DS9, the Bellisarius was through the wormhole and doing what they'd been sent to do. Scouting for locations to establish a base. Obvious spot was on the near side of the wormhole, but that would require more resources and people power than something that was based planet side or embedded in some convenient rock orbiting some nearby star.

Was already setting off before Stangerson made it through. Holmes, posterchild for why alphas shouldn't be within five feet of a command chair was through practically on Stangerson's ass.

Stangerson went his slow way surveying every millimeter of space along the route the Calypsso had taken by the time Drebber had surveyed three systems and reported back to DS9 twice.

Third trip out, got a distress signal. Good opportunity to show what the Federation could do.

Poor ass natives had stood up to the local power in the region, the Dominion, a few hundred years back. Been made an example of with a bio-engineered  plague.

Great opportunity. Beamed down an away team to cook up a cure. Wow the natives with the Federation's advanced technology. Planet was a short distance from the wormhole. Could be a good spot to set up a base of operations.

The Bakerstreet had sent some transmission about encountering two Dominion ships near a space anomaly, but that could mean anything. Two hundred years was a long time for a space empire to keep it up.

The Bellisarius would scout around. Nothing aggressive, but time to show the locals that the Federation was there to bring a little civilization and shit.

Speaking softly. Carrying a big stick.


	3. Violet Hunter POV

Violet woke up ten minutes before her alarm went off. "Computer, alarm off and lights on." Her bed was warm and comfortable. There was a tower stack of books next to her bed. Mostly covering the Eugenics Wars and WWIII. She'd been on a bit of a twentieth and twenty-first century reading kick since their little visit to the past.

She left the stack where it was. Night time was for reading.

This was morning. Which meant stretching. Putting on running gear and walking out the door. Julian was waiting patiently. She supposed he didn't have any choice but to be patient. He fell into an easy rhythm next to her as she ran.

After running into Bashir again on DS9 on their last trip back to report, she felt a bit off. Like she needed to fill the silence of the run. "How was your evening?" She almost winced at how banal that was.

"I was off to conserve memory." An easy smile. Because he wasn't programmed to be an asshole, he even sounded a little out of breath as he kept pace.

"Fun," said Violet, making room to go around Owen Tregennis, on his way to his quarters from the swing shift.

Julian flickered out for a moment, and resumed his place next to her. "And you?"

"The Rise and Fall of the Khans." And because she couldn't resist sharing factoids, even though Vi would tell her it was the equivalent of talking to the wall, she said, "Did you know they were in their late teens when they rose to power?"

"Strangely, the engineers who designed me failed to include that in the medical database." Even though he was smiling, Violet knew Julian wasn't being an ass about it.

She flapped her hand at him. "Yeah, yeah." She skipped the lift. The one on this end of the deck had been hit by the ship prankster and half the time took people halfway to a floor. Stairs were better exercise. They made it to the stairwell. There were no holo emitters there so she lost him for a bit. But level twelve was the largest deck, with the longest circle, and it made for the best run. As she came out through the blast doors, Julian was waiting. She resumed without break. "I'd read about Augment research beginning in the fifties, and what pictures there are that end up in textbooks are at the end of their rule in the late nineties, which kind of gives the impression that they were adults or something when they took over, but nope."

"That makes sense," said Julian. "We tend to see the final version of a something as the version it always was."

She thought about that as they ran. "Are you the first… you?"

"Second. There were dozens of engineers who went into making the emergency holographic program, but the first visual version was based on the lead developer."

"Let me guess. White middle aged male. Human."

"It's true what they say, the best navigators are a little psychic." She snorted. Her psionic score had mostly been good so far for getting her extra homework on that survey Watson had sent around.

She bit back several comments about how she liked the way he looked now. There really wasn't anywhere for that end of the conversation to go. No matter if she had her share of fantasies. What went on in her head was her business and no one else's but her own.

Since level twelve was the lab level, they didn't pass very many people at this hour. Mostly passed closed doors. However, when they came to the large scale machining lab, the door was open. Smoke was billowing out, but the fire suppressions weren't kicking on, which could mean anything given how things were routed and rerouted on the Bakerstreet.

Violet took a look inside as she went by. Commander Holmes was covered in a mix of soot and fire suppression foam. He didn't appear to be injured, but sometimes she got the impression that a shuttle would land on him and he'd shake it off.  He certainly didn't ask the medical hologram running next to her for help.

They made if fully halfway around the deck when Julian said, "He's been avoiding John. He's skipped several dinners thus far to work on that device."

Honestly, she'd have preferred to skip discussing the ship's most discussed non-romance. But it was the sort of conversation a couple would have. Talking about mutual acquaintances. All part of the fantasy of the run. "And on this week's episode of 'Will they, Won't they – the Holmes and Watson show, Holmes is tragically smudged for ignoring Watson."

Julian chuckled. "You can thank that white, balding, middle aged, lead engineer for my understanding of sarcasm. Under all of Doctor Bashir's mannerisms, and interests, there are remnants of all the engineers who worked on me. Their finger prints in my code."

Julian frowned. "And Crewman Stonn. Ensign Moriarty."

Which made Violet wish she could read code. She wondered if reading Julian's code would be like reading his mind. But didn't want to ask. They continued the rest of the run with no more billows of smoke.


	4. Martha Hudson's POV

Martha's hip was acting up again. Not helped by having to get engineering to fix the lift near her deck again. With the injuries she'd sustained over the years, she simply couldn't be taking the stairs. The crew had named whoever was interfering with ship's equipment Casper. She was inclined to call them in a good deal of trouble when she determined who it was.

Since she was off shift, she took an herbal soother, which would no doubt have Watson tutting about self-prescriptions.

When she had been a few years younger, she'd told herself it was a good reminder to not let her mission get out of control. That's all it had been a mission. Getting a very bad man to fall in love with her. Not entirely difficult when her ability to read minds meant that she knew what to say. How to stroke his ego. When to be silent. Provided she was willing to ignore Betazoid ethics around invading a mind that didn't invite one in.

In the end, he'd found out and that had been the end of that operation.

In a way, the Phase had been a relief. Section 31 had a use for an attractive young telepath willing to make the hard choices. Not as much for an older telepath going through her change in life that had everyone around her feeling her emotions, and experiencing a rather increased sex drive. Last reproductive hurrah before all that shut down. Still, she was glad that teaching at the Academy had brought her to the Bakerstreet. Her adventuring days were not behind her.

Across the ship, the minds of her crew mates whispered in the background like rustling leaves. The herbal soother lowered her barriers, but it was nothing more than a murmur. Nothing much more than whispers.

There was no mission that required her to dip into anyone's thoughts for the good of the Federation. Nothing needed, but a good holo vid and a nice cup of tea.


	5. John POV

The time spent surveying didn't leave much for John to do. Not many injuries beyond the usual scrapes and colds that happened when a few hundred people were cooped up in a tritanium can in space.

Must be the reason for all the prank wars that had been flaring up and causing minor injuries.

Billy came in for one of his weekly checkups. John was still trying to get his body mass up to where it should be. Billy fidgeted on the biobed and said, "So, how do you know if an alpha is…" he twisted his hands, "you know…" he flushed bright red, "interested in a relationship."

There's been a time when John would have had a certain answer. When he'd been sure of himself. Would have said, "Ask." That younger, more certain version of himself hadn't cared if the person said no. He sighed. "Hell if I know."

He didn't even know what he'd done to make Sherlock avoid him. Of course, the idea was ridiculous. He told himself that Sherlock had just had one of his ideas and he had to work on it to the exclusion of sleeping. Eating. Speaking. Looking at other sentient beings.

From what John could gather at the next briefing, it was a design for a completely illegal cloaking device that had something to do with holographic generators.

"Well, if the Federation were developing this device, it would be a violation of the Treaty of Algeron," said Hudson. "So it might be best if he stopped explaining it to us at an official briefing. In fact, oh dear, the recording devices in this room aren't working."

"It was a strategic mistake for the Federation to agree not to have the technology for such a device," said Yao. "Both the Romulans and the Klingons have cloaking technology."

"Oh, but what the Commander is doing is nothing like the technology that the Romulans use for their cloaking device. Not that I would know anything about that." Hudson tapped the side of her nose. "

Sherlock turned around from the holo board to glare at them. "It's not a cloaking device."

"But it would cloak the ship," said Hunter.

"It would allow the ship to enter an interphasic state while simultaneously projecting a holographic display of the surrounding space," said Sherlock.

Yao looked closely at Sherlock's equations. She said in a tone of quiet awe, "With this, we'd be able to phase right through enemy sensors. Mine fields. Planets. Stars. A fleet that has this technology could conquer the galaxy."

Sherlock heaved a very annoyed sigh. "If I were interested in conquest that might be relevant. Which I am not. What I am interested in is for the Bakerstreet to be able to travel without encountering anomalies where they occur."

Moriarty said, "From what I see, it'd be more likely it would blow the ship up. Not that I'm complaining. Just seeing the pattern in the web."

John had to wonder just what Moriarty thought Starfleet was going to be like. Then again, John had only served on the Bakerstreet. But no, Sisko hadn't seemed like he'd have a problem with Chief O'Brian rigging up all sorts of clever solutions to problems.

Sherlock kept working on his not cloaking device.

They passed by several planets where pink eyed aliens from a species called the Vorta smarmily told them to fuck themselves off given they weren't a ship authorized by the Dominion to trade on this or that world.

They charted what appeared to be the edges of Dominion space for that sector, and made their way back to the wormhole.

The buoy at the entrance had several tight beamed messages for transport back through the wormhole from both of the other ships.

Moriarty chuckled as he downloaded them. "Looks like Captain Stangerson wasn't too happy with his chief engineer. The quality of the transmission goes out at the end, but it looks like he accidentally rammed them through another space anomaly. Accuses him of all sorts of dastardly things."

They all looked at Sherlock, who was in thinking pose number three. He said nothing. John wished he knew where Sherlock went when he got like that. He'd known Sherlock for over two years. They were best friends. Except, mates knew more than the basics about each other. Sometimes, he felt like he knew next to nothing about him. He never talked about his parents. His family. His favorite books. If John made a list about what he knew about Sherlock, it would be a short list.

Hudson said mildly, "Moriarty, you're only supposed to download the logs. Not read them."

"So, I shouldn't tell you what they say," said Moriarty, eyes wide.

"I didn't say that," said Hudson. "But discretely transfer them to our pads for quiet reading or listening. There's a good lad."

"Oooh," said Moriarty, "And the Bellisarius is reporting a nice juicy plague. Looks like that nasty Dominion bio-engineered a little something to show some planet who's the boss in this quadrant."

John had only heard of the Dominion a short while ago, and already he thought they were utter wankers.

On the way back through the wormhole, he revisited a memory of his mum making him steak and kidney pie when he'd broken his leg as a boy. He visited a future memory, maybe. He was an adult, older, but not old, in a torpedo bay crying while sad violin music echoed through the room and they fired the torpedo at a new dawn.

He found he was still crying when he arrived on the far side. He dashed away the tears, because it was probably a hallucination.


	6. Sherlock POV

Sherlock's work on the phase shifting cloaking device was not as smooth as it might have been. He hadn't made nearly the progress he should have. He kept thinking about what he'd come to refer to as the Incident with the Woman. His loss of control distracted him. The myriad implications.

He missed talking with John.

Still, solving a plague with John might be a good way to put them back on the old footing, which John was unaware that they had left.

_Sophistry._

There was – thankfully – no reason to engage in pleasantries at DS9, or for that matter leave the Bakerstreet. Although, Sherlock had no idea why John insisted that a planetary wide pandemic was beyond the Bakerstreet's capabilities to handle.

John sighed. "Sherlock, I just finished my degree. Even with on the job training, I'm not qualified to handle a plague that was bio-engineered to make an example of these poor sods, and must have all sorts of nasty mutations. Every member of that race is born with the disease in remission. If I weren't careful, I could cause it to go active. Julian is great, but he wasn't designed for this sort of thing either."

Sherlock heaved a sigh. "Doctor Bashir only graduated five years ahead of you."

"As a fully accredited Doctor." John held up a hand. "Just try not to insult him too much." The transporter shimmered and Doctor Bashir appeared with Lieutenant Dax and a pile of boxes.

Lieutenant Dax dragged their eyes up and down Sherlock. "Commander, permission to come aboard."

"You already are aboard." Sherlock crossed his arms, while beside him John shifted forward slightly.

"Too right," Dax stepped off the platform. "Where are the handsome and muscular young crew members to carry the medical equipment? We can't just leave it piled up in the… what have you done to your transporter room? Not criticizing by the way. I've always thought they were a bit too bland. Could use a bit of color."

Sherlock looked around. Transporter Room Cloud had recently gained a few giant scarlet butterflies flying amid the clouds and a wooden carving of flying pig over the transporter module.

John grinned, his hands behind his back. "I have no idea what you mean." Patently false. Puckish humor.

"I guess what they say about the Bakerstreet is true," said Bashir.

Chief McCarthy cleared his throat. He'd been the one to add the beret to the flying pig.

"Not that they say anything," said Bashir hastily.

Julian flashed into view. "I can help with the medical equipment. I've set aside a spot to store them while we're on route."

Bashir stared at him. "But… what are you? This isn't sickbay. How are you…but," he looked around. "You installed holo emitters in your transporter room."

"In their cloud blue transporter room with beret wearing flying pig," said Dax, raising their eyebrows. "I really like the pig."

"The holo-emitters are all over the ship," said Sherlock, glaring at both of them, because if they wanted to tell him that he'd misused Federation resources, they could transport themselves right back to DS9 and he and John could solve the plague. Probably faster without interference. A week at most.

"Hmmm…" said Dax. "And how much time does the crew waste in dark corners on your ship?" A repellant thought. While Sherlock had become accustomed to Julian's lack of scent, it was why he'd begun upgrading the holodeck in the first place.

_Sophistry. He'd wanted to observe John's responses to the changes. To have a role in causing John's pleasure. A role that brought him deeper and deeper. No end in sight._

"Oh, I'm the only thing that can appear on them," said Julian, easily lifting the boxes onto an anti-grav sled. Power consumption aside, Sherlock had no idea why anyone did any manual labor when holograms were available.

"Same statement, more specific individual," said Dax.

"Hey," said Bashir.

"Julian, I've met you," said Dax. "And if he's based on you, I stand by my statement."

"While I was programmed to understand those types of inferences, I wasn't programmed for that type of activity," said Julian mildly as he pushed the sled through the doors.

"I'm sure you weren't programmed for manual labor either," said Bashir following close behind.

Dax laughed. "I'm sure he's just curious about you?"

"I have specific subroutines to keep me from getting too curious." Which Sherlock had changed months ago – ridiculous constraint – curiosity and creativity were in short supply.

Bashir stared openly at Julian. "I'll be curious for both of us." He continued to stare as they went down the hallway and down three levels on the lift.

Tedious.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You did know that when they spent months scanning you that they were making a holographic version of you."

"For emergencies," said Doctor Bashir, looking up at the holo emitter on the roof of the lift.  "I never actually expected to meet one in the field. Especially not one that has been running as long as it has."

"He prefers he," said John with a bright smile, walking out through the opening doors.

"In your honor." Julian pushed the sled forward. "I never expected to meet you either, and you're considerably more rare. There's one of me on every ship in the fleet, but there is only one of you."

"Oh, you are curious." Dax grinned at Sherlock. "You have a curious hologram on your hands."

"A helpful program," said Julian. "A curious hologram might be turned off."

Sherlock snorted, because that wasn't happening on his ship.


	7. Violet Hunter POV

The trip through the wormhole had Violet remembering petting that old black and white cat that her grandma had had. Stroking until it clawed her. Herself as an old woman petting her own tabby cat and earning a kiss when it clawed her.

She was still smiling as she came through. Until she realized that Julian had been old in that future memory. If that's what they were. Or possibilities. Either way, Julian would never age.

That was why when she went off shift and went to the galley for dinner. One of the replicators had been hit by their ship prankster. It was spitting out green goo, and Connor and Sestre were playing with it.

She went to one of the functioning replicators, and walked over to the table where Watson was eating with Bashir and a Trill. "Mind if I join you?"

Watson smiled at her, but it was the Trill, who said, "The more the merrier. I'm Lieutenant Dax."

Bashir eyed her nervously.

She supposed she had to wear the big girl pants and apologize. "Sorry, Doctor Bashir that we got off to a bad start on DS9."

"Knowing Julian, I'm sure it was entirely his fault," said Dax, which again threw her. Until Violet realized that Dax meant Bashir.

That happened on and off through the meal. She found herself fantasizing once that Julian – her Julian – was standing somewhere off in the shadows of the galley – if the galley had shadows – watching. Jealously.

She made herself stop and engage in the actual conversation going on around her. She didn't know much about medicine, but Dax kept the conversation flowing any time it hit a snag. Confident and polished in a way that Hunter felt like she'd never reach.

She didn't end the conversation madly in love with Bashir. He was nice. Insanely optimistic about being able to cure the plague on Auberj. Dax kept kidding him about winning a Nobel for medicine. It made Violet feel prickly quite frankly.

But if the wormhole aliens were to be believed, he'd grow on her.

She invited him to play tennis on the holodeck. He said, "I have to warn you, I have enhanced reflexes."

Violet kept her friendly smile on her face, because Julian never said things like that, but didn't take back the invitation.

Still, by the time they put Bashir and Dax down on Auberj, she deliberately didn't make plans for getting together when the Bakerstreet came back in a week after checking on the status of the Al-Haytham. The wormhole aliens were not the boss of her.


	8. Martha Hudson

Martha was a telepath. Not precognitive, nor could she claim to sense the departed. But arriving to find the Calypso had been ripped in half and was floating like an empty can was not a welcome sight.

Violet said, "There's no sign of the Al-Haytham."

Martha said, "Do keep scanning."

Sherlock huffed and went to examine a scan at a free station. Good. Keep his mind off whatever it was that was bothering him about John.

All ships had a standing order to return to a Starbase after an encounter with an anomaly, but none ever did. Martha had Hunter maintain their course.

"Commander, I've got something," said Violet. "It's at the edge of sensor range. It's the Al-Haytham's black box. It's been exposed to vacuum."

The Bakerstreet suddenly lurched making Martha think once again that they needed seatbelts installed on all the stations.

"I don't know what caused that," said Vi. "The ship just changed course on its own." She drew in a swift breath. "We're headed straight into the energy field."

Violet shouted, "Brace for impact!"

As impacts went, there wasn't much of one. Martha looked around the bridge. It was brighter than it had been.

Violet said, "Vi, stop shouting. Everyone just..."

Violet was broadcasting her thoughts. It seemed only the right thing to do to answer her. " _They're not shouting, dear. It's simply that you can hear them. Now, try this." She showed her the castle metaphor that her grandmother had shown her._

Violet exhaled. _"I…okay… yeah… I think I can…oh, that is better."_

Martha said, "Not really a permanent solution. We'll need to work on your mental discipline, but most young telepaths respond well to the castle analogy." Her eyes widened. Really the only way to describe the sensation that was occurring was that she had a new limb. "Oh, that is interesting," said Martha. She pointed at Vi and twisted her fingers. Vi's com badge floated into the air towards Martha. Gathering speed as it went.

It then embedded itself a few inches from Sherlock's head in the wall.

"Ops," said Martha. "I guess I don't know my own strength. Sorry about that."

Sherlock jumped up just as excited as if he'd also suddenly acquired psionic abilities. He tapped his com. "Any crew who has developed silver eyes and/or psychic abilities should report to sickbay."

He didn't even have to say the next part. Martha said it for him, sighing. "Yes, yes, we have to test for science."


	9. John POV

One moment, John had been going over the bio-scans Bashir and Dax were sending to the Bakerstreet, and feeling like an utter imposter, and not even remotely qualified to be a doctor in Starfleet.

The next, everything sort of fell into place. He shook his head. "It's like they don't even realize that their basing everything on Human and Trill norms." Running electrical scans on the people of Auberj will cause anyone they scan to leave remission and cause the disease to enter an active state. They're killing them by trying to treat them.

Julian looked at the results. "The medical database doesn't have any information on that kind of response." Everything wasn't about the Starfleet medical database. That was the point. Space was big and vast and full of things they knew nothing about. Julian waited until he was done shouting. Julian said very quietly. "John, your eyes. They've turned silver."

Sherlock's voice came over the coms. "Any crew who has developed silver eyes and/or psychic abilities should report to sickbay."

 _"Just like in that book about the girl."_ John could have sworn he heard Tregennis, but he wasn't in the room. John suddenly had this image of a children's book. _Tregennis curled up during the winter reading about a girl with silver eyes and psychic abilities finding others just like herself. Heart warming._

John didn't really need to look in a mirror, but he did anyway to confirm what all the evidence would seem to point to. He had silver eyes. By which time, the whispering from all over the ship was getting a bit like the audience at a Klingon Opera.

Hunter and Hudson came into sickbay. He met their silvered gaze. They were followed by Sherlock, who oddly enough, wasn't shouting at John. Not like everyone else.

_A palace stood on the edge of a cliff. A wide green river flowed beneath it. He could go up the exterior stairs into an ornamental garden. There was a rosemary hedge maze, which buzzed with bees. He could float down the river a short ways to the green island covered in ruins. He could go through the golden marble entrance of the palace._

_Hudson said, "Best not. You don't know your way around yet. Also, nulls get very touchy about that sort of thing. Now here's the thing to keep the shouting down."_

_She demonstrated a castle wall, which was absurdly simple. Everything was incredibly simple._

The tests told them the obvious. They all had increasing amounts of the neurotransmitter Psilosynine, which came with increasing psionic abilities.

Julian was calm as a lake. No thoughts to ripple his surface. Until John looked into the code that made him up. Complicated as tangled yarn. Looping rapidly through algorithms. Only as efficient as the engineers who'd coded him. Who'd thought in terms of power and not in terms of cooperation.

Julian couldn't do much other than search the databases for something similar.

_John listened to Sherlock hear what Julian had found in a century old log from the USS Enterprise, which had encountered a similar field. Two crew members listed as effected. Subsequently dying in the performance of their duty. No record of how they died._

_John read the logs. Obvious what had happened. Tried to seize control of the ship. There had been an attempt to maroon them. They were killed in self-defense._

_He watched Sherlock delete all mention of the logs in the Bakerstreet's database. Delete Julian's memory of the search and conversation, which was very good. John had done the same for Sherlock. John would do anything for Sherlock._

More tests.

No one else had been affected. Although, the entire crew was trooped through. Even a null like Moriarty, who grinned with shark's teeth. Something about him set John on edge.

_Obvious that they would be the only ones affected. It was all in the way the neurotransmitters functioned in their minds._

_"Is this what it's like to be Sherlock? John asked the tattered pirate flag in the ruins on the green island. It fluttered in the wind and did not answer. Sherlock was analyzing the energy wave. There was furious activity inside the palace. John climbed the long flight of marble stairs past the brass lions in the ornamental garden._

John tried to explain the obvious. "The wave had triggered a spontaneous mutation in our pituitary glands, which triggered a release of Psilosynine." He laughed at a thought from Hudson. "Yes, a sort of second puberty." Waggled his eyebrows at Sherlock. "Psychic puberty."

Donovan read a report on the bridge. "Their abilities increasing." She thought they were a danger. She always thought everyone was a danger. He didn't mind. Junkyard dogs bark. It's their job.

With so much to do and explore, John didn't even mind that he was beginning to feel numbness in his extremities. A natural result of that much Psilosynine. It interfered with other neurotransmitters.

John told Julian, fussing over things that it didn't matter, "Tapping into psychic abilities isn't the end of the world." He pulled a face. "It's what the scientists who engineered the North American Augments were trying to do in the first place."

_Hudson was thinking of methods for reproducing the energy wave. Machines. Biological organisms. Everyone could level up. Or it might kill them. There was that._

Julian sighed. "They didn't always intend the results of what they got. As your minds continue to develop, other areas of your body will be affected. The numbness you've reported in your outer extremities are just the first sign."

As if John didn't know that.

Since they were in medical observation, they didn't go to the bridge staff meeting. They lay on bio-beds being beeped at. Pins and needles in their fingers and toes.

_"It does have its advantages." Hudson smiled._

_It did. John had a cuppa, and listened in from Sherlock's ornamental garden._

_Moriarty said, "Three ships encountered the anomaly. Two cracked open like eggs. Stangerson's log mentioned silver eyes. It's obvious. Hudson, Watson, and Hunter are a danger to the ship. We need to get them off as soon as possible. Maroon our dear friends. Report back how dangerous this quadrant is."_

_Donovan – because she would say this – said, "I agree, and you heard what Julian said, they're only getting more powerful."_

_"I didn't say that so you could use it as a justification," said Julian. "In any case, there's no record of any phenomenon like this." He looked at Sherlock. "None at all."_

_"I didn't say we should space them, "protested Donovan. "We could leave them on an uninhabited planet."_

_John looked up at the palace. Sherlock had gone rushing inside a moment ago. Just a little peek wouldn't do any harm. He went up the golden marble stairs and into a wide rose and gold marble entry way with a dome painted with allegorical figures of the sciences. The stairway beyond was full of carved red and pale yellow marble. The ceiling was painted with allegorical figures. Deduction. Induction. Evidence based research. That figure was seated on a pile of books and cross referencing journals._

_John peered into a long hallway. Sherlock was shouting at portraits on the walls._

_John shouldn't go farther in. Sherlock had already experienced extensive brain damage from interference by a powerful telepath._

_Of course, John was even more powerful than Euros now. He could repair what she'd done. Really, he ought to._

_An oil Odalisque portrait of John lounging naked on a couch in Sherlock's quarters at the Academy said, "You probably shouldn't." He smiled in fairly ridiculously enigmatic way. "You definitely shouldn't look in there." He pointed at a dark woodened door with a well-worn brass door handle._

_Just a little peek wouldn't hurt. The door swung open on well sprung hinges. Air gusted out. There was a small bridge. A delicate thing of curling gold metal in the shapes of vines over a white marble library. John crossed over and went through the metal door between two spiraling ivory pillars._

_The scent hit him first. It was rank with sex. Heat. Rut. Alpha. Omega. John stepped inside a cream and blue lacquered room. Interspersed around the blue lacquered designs of fruit and vines were gold frames of images embedded into the walls. John looked closer._

_His own face straddling from above - face flushed with a rosy glow – throwing his head back – mouth rounding as his naked hips moved up and down. Lying on his back – hair sweat clumped – bracing himself against a wall as he rocked on the mattress – eyes squeezed shut – panting. Many of the other embedded images were abstracts. The impression of pale limbs. Golden hair. If he pressed an ear to the little blue and gold lacquered bowls, he could hear himself. Moaning. Groaning. Shouting. Purring._

_John couldn't help himself. He stroked the walls. Wove tendrils of thought into an expression of desire. Felt everything Sherlock had felt. Everything he had felt._

_Let it all wash over him in a wonderful wave until the entire room glowed. Until John glowed. Until the palace's stones cried out for him._

_He went deeper in, craving more._

_But door had a brass plaque with black text. "Animalistic behavior. Primitive. Do not repeat."_

_In the room's antechamber, there was a tall portrait. Himself from the torso up, dressed as a cadet, face drawn and weary. He was standing in Sherlock's office at the academy. The pale marks, now just a part of John, peeking over the collar of his uniform. That plaque read simply. "Consequences."_

_He went deeper in._

_A painting of his own backside pressed against a railing in engineering. A bowl full of water moaned next to it. He dipped his fingers in, and it wasn't water. It was memory. Desire. Need. Clinging to a railing and thrusting into a body that was apart. Separated by metal. Around them the ship lurched as they were saved from being destroyed by a falling star. As they destroyed each other. More tendrils of thought. Until the room was full amber rose light._

_The next antechamber was another portrait. Himself in tweeds on Trelanes world. His portrait said, "Sherlock is my best friend."_

_Which was a bit of a jolt. Still, there was another door. John was about to go deeper in when he heard Julian's voice._

"Violet, what are you doing?"

John's eyes snapped open. The lights were a little brighter than John wanted so he dimmed them. Julian was standing next to Hunter, who was staring at a monitor in front of her. She said absently, "I learned the coding language that you're written in. Now I'm fixing where their antiquated coding practices and sub-conscious beliefs held you back." She smiled sweetly.

He flickered. "You can't…" and disappeared.

Hunter told empty air. "I'll just shut you down while I work." She caught John looking at her. "His code is holding him back. We're all using him. The crew. Stonn. Someone even added some prank code to have him cause all those little malfunctions we've had since we came through the wormhole. Then having him delete them. I'm going to fix all that."

That seemed like a wonderful idea. He felt annoyed, because Hunter had it easy. Julian's code came with comments and a user's guide. He had no idea what to change in Sherlock so that he understood that he belonged to John. With John. Same difference. 

Hudson rubbed her hip. _"I say this from experience, men don't like it when they find out that they've been manipulated into a relationship. Make sure they don't find out."_  

This was excellent advice.

_John went back in the palace. This time looking for the down staircase. If Sherlock's childhood memories were locked up somewhere, the place to start was the basement._


	10. Martha Hudson POV

Martha had a bit of a problem.

Not the additional powers, which was really rather pleasant. No, the issue was that according to the ships logs, Yao had ordered the change from Engineering that sent them into the anomaly. Martha had taken the lift with Yao on her way to the bridge.

There was just one problem.

The ship's sensors and replicator memory indicated that Yao had consumed two cups of coffee with Billy in the ship's galley. Really, the poor thing was painfully shy regarding emotions. Martha had half a mind to tell Yao that Billy returned her feelings.

In any case, the main issue was someone had wanted them to encounter that field and that Yao couldn't have enjoyed a cup of coffee while sending them careening into an energy anomaly.

Now that Martha had perfect recall, she was able to recall that Yao, who had excellent mental walls it was true, had been a complete cypher when they'd ridden the lift. Not walled, but totally null. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, as her perception had been focused on getting to the toilet off the bridge, but now she very much noticed. She also could think back and find a pattern of fuzzy places in her psychic perceptions.

As if someone had given her a low dose of Psylotrosis. Nothing that would be able to counter her abilities now, but enough to have masked her abilities previously.

It also had not gone outside of her notice that Drebber's logs had mentioned a series of mishaps before his ship was also unexpectedly driven straight through the anomaly.

It was possibly a coincidence that this was their second adventure in space anomalies in a matter of a few months.

Martha had not survived to the point of aging out of active service in a clandestine organization by believing in coincidence.

Rather regretfully, she had to put on permanent hold the plan to augment the rest of the crew. After all, she was fairly certain it would only kill them, and she was fond of them. A pet owner didn't kill her kittens if she discovered they were perhaps as dumb as a sack of rocks. She loved and cared for them, and got them treats to play with.

Which led to her next problem. While John and Violet appeared to be focusing on their love lives, she thought the greater issue was what had caused the other ship to explode.

Retrieving data from the black boxes of the two broken ships was a bit like sifting through the mind of a prisoner for useful secrets, but she did figure it out eventually.

"Oh, dear." She said it out loud because it was worth saying aloud. There had been a trendline of engine inefficiency on both ships. Cut off by a rather dramatic explosion from somewhere other than the engine room.

There were, of course, as in any psionic culture, horror stories about Betazoid's whose abilities were so great that they became pure energy. Martha found herself reviewing memories of childhood favorites. Ascensions that rather spectacularly coincided with a bit of an explosion as those ascending left their bodies behind.

"Oh, dear," because it was worth saying twice.

"I know," said a Trelane in the full resplendent gold brocade of the Squire of Gothos. He had a small sparkler that was sending little lights in all directions. "My parents said to come congratulate you because your ascending, and to give you this token on the transient nature of reality." 

Martha eyed the sparkler, which was burning holes in the synthetic cover of the bio-bed. "Would it be possible for me to save everyone when I ascend?"

"Didn't you see the sparkler!" said Trelane. "They're all going to die." He looped a shape in the air, which left after images on her retinas. "Which is so unfair. I'll never get to beat Commander Holmes now. I was supposed to duel with him after the ball." The sparkler finished sparkling and turned to ash.

In Martha's unfortunately too frequent experience with encounters with Trelane, the poor dear was lonely. It was useless to attempt to coax him to do something useful.

"Not to be ungrateful, but I am a little busy right now. I'll be sure to visit with you if I do ascend."

"If!" said Trelane sitting up.

"Yes, dear. I'm going to do what any responsible pet owner would do. Figure out how to save all my darlings."

"You'd better do it before you blow up the bit of reality they're standing in."

Which had her shooing him off as unhelpful, the little scamp.


	11. Sherlock POV

Sherlock found the conversation strange. His mood was a conflicted soup of happiness and fear. As if he were suffusing with light full of tar.

While fighting unreasonable demands.

"If anyone suggests removing anyone from this ship, they will be confined to quarters."

"They've changed our course!" shouted Donovan unnecessarily.

"To the planet that we were going to go to anyway," said Sherlock, which he felt should also have been unnecessary to state. Rosy warmth when thinking of John.

Yao was staring at Sherlock in a very annoying way. The sort of look that implied he'd grown an additional head, which had not occurred. Surprisingly, she said, "We should focus on how to save them." Her smile was gentle and soft. "Perhaps Doctor Bashir could help?"

However, when they established contact, Bashir looked tired and defeated. "Commander, you need to give us more time." As if Sherlock cared about a two hundred year old plague when something was happening to John. Bashir continued, "The Dominion designed the virus so while all inhabitants are born with it in an inactive state, it can become active randomly. Anyone who attempts to use an electronic scanner activates the virus. Tell Watson he was right. I don't know how he knew. We switched to passive scanners and I think we can make progress."

"Oh, dear, have you lost many patients?" asked Moriarty. "Are the people very angry with you? Really violent."

Bashir swallowed and looked down. "There was… an incident."

Dax came into view. "Doctor Yakcm was killed by a mob shortly after we arrived. We have moved to the home of the last patient willing to be treated."

"She's pregnant. We need to give her every opportunity to live to see her baby," said Bashir.

Given that presumably there had been many pregnant plague victims over the previous two hundred years, Sherlock did not care. He cared that John and the other's physical health was deteriorating. He cared that he hadn't been able to determine a way to reverse what had occurred.

"Commander," said Moriarty, "I'm getting another hail, it's from the Bellapheron."

Sherlock did not growl as they cut Bashir off only to be replaced by Drebber, who said, "We went to meet with two Dominion ships patrolling this sector. We're under heavy fire. If either the Al-Haytham or the Bakerstreet gets this message, this is the Bellapheron requesting immediate assistance."

Sherlock opened his mouth to give a response to anyone idiotic to engage with unknown forces a quadrant away from reasonable support. _He heard the howl of a sehlat deep inside his mind palace. Felt the foundations quake._

So, his response to Captain Drebber was, "Captain Redbeard needs me," before collapsing on the floor.


	12. Martha Hudson POV

Donovan was dithering over what to do. The shock of being thrust into command.

While poor Yao was beside herself. Thoughts exploding in all directions like confetti.

Now Martha might have felt this was a good learning experience, but really, the pets could hardly be trusted to pee in the litter box, much less face down a superior force.

There was the minor matter of getting to the bridge, but really folding space turned out to be just as easy as folding paper, and a good site easier than folding a fitted sheet.

She swayed on her feet, and unfortunately couldn't do much to help poor Sherlock, but at least his seat was free for her to collapse into.

Donovan vaulted over the railing in an overly dramatic way. "I'm taking you to the brig."

"That's not going to happen. Now be a dear, and go take your station." Since Donovan did not move, Martha moved her back to her station. She did have to put a bit of a restraint on her, but that was the way things had to be sometimes with pets.

"Be there in a tick," she told Captain Drebber. "Try not to be destroyed before we get there."

"This is unexpected," said Moriarty. "I love it."

Martha told Moriarty, "A nice attitude, but please try to be less annoying. There's a pet."

_"Violet, are you done with Julian? Commander Holmes really could use him."_

She had to assume that John was already aware that he'd made Sherlock collapse.

_"I'm not quite, but if I reconnect this routine, then… there."_

Julian appeared on the bridge. Looking fit as a fiddle, which was good. Martha wasn't sure what to think about applying code changes without a bit of testing. She said, "Julian, take care of Commander Holmes would you? And if you're up to it, in about thirty minutes, give or take a few minutes, I think the John, Violet, and myself will be explosively ascending to a new plain of reality. So see what you can do about preventing that."

Yao said, "Julian, allow me to help you with the Commander." A nice idea, although Julian didn't really need any help. They left the bridge, which was at least that taken care of.

Violet popped up to take her station from a very nervous ensign.

"We're a light cruiser," said Donovan through gritted teeth. "Anything that can take on a battleship like the Bellapheron will make mincemeat of the Bakerstreet."

Martha sighed. She did wonder if anyone ever read any of poor Sherlock's upgrade reports. In any case, the key point was really this. "As you may have heard dear, Violet and I are psychic and very dangerous."

"Very unexpected," said Moriarty.


	13. John POV

_John went deeper and deeper. Went by marble swimming pools lit with phosphorescent lights and a very nice wine cellar until he came to the absolute bottom. An unremarkable locked red door._

_There was also a red furred Vulcan sehlat guarding the door. It howled at John and bared giant tusked fangs, but John wasn't having any of that. This was Sherlock's mind and he didn't want to do too much damage to whatever the sehlat represented, but he wasn't having his metaphoric throat ripped out. He flung it away from him and it whined as it hit the door and melted into it._

_He tried to open the locked door. Shaking the knob didn't work. Kicking it. Slamming it with mental energy until the building all around him shook._

_By now he was determined. He had to get through._

_He gave it all he had. One resounding blow and the door flew off its hinges._

_He looked through into a snowy valley surrounded by rocky cliffs on both sides. There were the stumps of dead trees. A frozen waterfall. Ruined shapes of weather ravaged buildings. Flurries of white snow swirled in the air and covered it all._

_That wasn't what really stood out for John though. It was the bodies of the children. One child lay staring up with wide eyes with a gaping chest wound. A little farther away lay a child half covered in snow. Sprawled as if flung into the air and broken. Neck at an angle Further still, another child lay in a sparkling red field of icy blood._

_A monstrous creature slumped dead a few feet away. It's head impaled by a shard of ice._

_He heard the clicking of chattering teeth. He followed the sound. Another child of around five, huddled under what appeared to the landing of a spiral staircase made of ice. His blue-green-grey eyes were impossible for John not to recognize._

_Little Sherlock whispered, "They're dead aren't they?"_

_"Yes." John pulled Sherlock. He was small and light in John's arms. He snuggled close against John's chest as he carried him._

_John kissed his forehead. "Who are they?"_

_"We're pirate captains. Redbeard, Bloody Hands, and me. I'm Yellowbeard. And the Ice Queen. I sail out of her kingdom."_

_He carried little Sherlock out of the snow. Course, wouldn't he know it. Sherlock disappeared as he went through the door._

_Really, the snowy valley couldn't be doing Sherlock any good. And dead children. Since Sherlock had claimed to be a pirate, John changed the view. Filled in the valley with a nice wide ocean. Something in some warm climate. He put a few sailing ships on the horizon racing on warm trade winds. He threw in a few humpback whales and spinner dolphins for good measure._

_For his trouble, he got a whisper on the breeze. "You always save me."_

Hudson's voice rang through the palace above him. "John, while I understand wanting to train your pet, be a dear and give us a hand would you?"


	14. Violet Hunter POV

For whatever reason, Moriarty was laughing hysterically, Violet had no idea why. She also had no idea why he was still on the bridge. Julian had removed everyone else fifteen minutes ago, having processed that being next to people about to explode really wasn't the best place to be.

She didn't have time to think about it, given that she was flying the ship and operating the weapons systems. Interfacing with Bakerstreet with her mind was a superior way to fly. The Dominion ships, heavier warships than the ones they'd previously encountered, had nothing on the Bakerstreet for speed.

The Bellasarius, unfortunately, had been destroyed by the time they'd made it to her location, and the Dominion ships weren't shy about shooting at the escape pods.

Hudson was focusing on reading the minds of the Dominion crews. They called themselves the Jem'Hadar. An all male force of vat grown lizards with the sole purpose of serving some sort of god race of beings called the Founders, who none of them had seen in the six months to three years any of them had been alive, and as far as they were concerned, they were dead and the only way to get their lives back was to blow up the Bakerstreet.

Violet flew the ship, while Hudson and Watson popped useful bits of debris in the way of the Dominion ships so they could keep transporting crew in the escape pods onto the Bakerstreet.

"Thirty seconds," giggled Moriarty. "I really ought to leave, but I have to see what happens next."

He really was very annoying.

"Fifteen."

"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven."

He didn't make it to six.

Three things happened simultaneously. _Hudson thought, "Found the Vorta engineers."_ The Dominion ships exploded in a blaze that Violet could feel on the hull of the Bakerstreet, connected as she was.

Sherlock and Yao stepped onto the bridge and pointed interphasic wave transmitters with an inverted alometric bartheon field generator at them and the world went white.

Violet blinked her eyes and found that she was lying flat on her back in sickbay with the mother of all hangovers making friends with a stabbing needle sharp pain behind her eyes. She expressed this feeling by saying. "Ngh."

She heard Watson and Hudson groan not far away.

"You'll be feeling the effects for a few hours. We think," said Julian. She felt a hand brush gentle fingers through her bangs and she whimpered in relief as a cool cloth was laid over her forehead and eyes.

The events of the last few days came rushing back and all she could think was "I recoded Julian. I turned him off. I have to apologize." She tried to move her hand, but found that she could only lift it a few inches.

"Relax, Violet."

She mumbled, "Sorry, I…" She wiggled her fingers at him. Hoping that encompassed the algorithm changes. The compression sequence that was even now crunching its way through his direct attached memory storage and blurring specific details. The removal of whole classes of code sequences, the addition of others. She'd made him fully functional, which was just humiliating.

But Julian just laughed. "Violet, I've had twenty-three patches since I came on-line. Mr. Stonn thought nothing of adding code so I'll teach his son. Commander Holmes, Hudson, John, and I think Moriarty, have all thought nothing of deleting segments of my memory at various times." Another brush of fingers through her hair. "You added an option to reject future upgrades, and gave me control of my updates, which is good. Better than good. Everything else, we can discuss later."

Violet nodded and decided to focus on the very nice fingers massaging her scalp.


	15. Martha Hudson POV

Martha had to consider that the most successful interrogation of her entire life.

Scanning the minds of six hundred and forty-three entities to find the one thing that she needed to know, resulting in a major victory. There was the rather unfortunate part that they might possibly have declared war on the Dominion, but since she had not actually opened fire at any point on any Dominion ships, and it would look very much like the Dominion ships had blown themselves up, which in point of fact they had, perhaps it wouldn't come to that.

She was rather worried that she couldn't read Hunter or Watson's minds. Although, Yao's relieved thoughts were loud enough.

There was also the some dozen sparklers that had appeared next to her bed with a neon card from Trelane. "Sorry, not sorry, you didn't ascend. Very respectfully, your friend, Trelane, Squire of Gothos, Esquire. General, Retired."

She very much wanted an herbal soother. However, she needed to have a very important discussion with Sherlock before another moment passed just in case this was one of those scenarios where as the Psilosynine left their systems, they would not only regress to their previous intelligence, but regress to some sort of vegetative state.

She opened her eyes, which she did not want to do, but the alternative was attempt to reach out with her mind, and she very sore just at the moment. Sherlock, was, as was to be expected, brooding over John and looking worried. "Commander, a moment."

"You'll be fine in a few hours," said Sherlock.

Martha shook her head, and then wished she hadn't. "Don't bite my head off if you think this is an obvious conclusion, but… we really must discuss how we went through the energy anomaly in the first place. Our encounter with both anomalies was not an accident. We've had a three percent increase in system failures since we took on new crew members." Since he didn't say anything, she added, "We have a saboteur onboard."

He looked surprised for all of three seconds, and then she saw him putting the pieces together now that he wasn't quite so worried about John. Really, the dear boy was so very emotional sometimes. "Moriarty." It wasn't a question.

"He would be my first choice."

"We'll discuss it later."

She did not nod or move her head in any way. She did close her eyes and hoped that later she would not be a vegetable.


	16. John POV

John felt that if he kept his eyes closed for the rest of eternity, he'd never have to look Sherlock in the face and they wouldn't have to have a conversation about him shoving his way into Sherlock's mind, looking at his private thoughts, having wired mental sex with his memories, and attempting to remake him from the foundation up.

He'd fucking blown up the door into some sort of fucking horror show in Sherlock's childhood and fucking replaced it with a fucking ocean.

"John, I am aware that you are both awake and completely recovered."

So much for that plan.

John opened his eyes. Sherlock didn't appear to be angry or ready to court martial him or tell him that they were no longer friends. He got as far as, "I…"

"Were not yourself."

John could work with that. He absolutely could work with that.

He sat up. He wasn't a genius anymore, really for the better. One of those on-board was enough. Given he'd been given a pass, he ought to let things go, but he found himself asking anyway. "Those children, who were they?"

"I believe that my memories of a pet sehlat represents a child named Redbeard. Although since I am not Yellowbeard, possibly not. The child covered in blood was Euros. Is Euros. The Ice Queen." An inky lock of hair fell forward over Sherlock's forehead. John really wanted to reach out and brush it back, but he'd done enough. "All of which is to say, I don't know."


	17. Sherlock POV

Sherlock had felt the ocean fill him. As it did, he sat up.

Yao was assembling pieces of an interphasic wave transmitter on the next bio-bed. Sherlock said, "We need to flood their system with the same radiation that transformed them while simultaneously interphasing their paracortexes."

"It has as equal likelihood of killing them," said Yao. She handed him some tools. It was the most efficiently they had ever worked together. Silently passing equipment.

It had worked fine.

John was fine.

He couldn't have gone very deeply into the John wing, or his behavior would be very different. He would have mentioned what Sherlock had been doing in the holodeck.

Sherlock told himself that he was relieved.

John even rather sheepishly offered to run a scan of Sherlock's brain once he was recovered. They found that the damaged area was still there, but less prominent. Some neuro transmissions were passing along paths in the damaged area.

Moriarty had disappeared from the ship. The transporter logs showed he'd transported into open space. But they didn't find his body floating in the void. Given everything else that had been occurring, Sherlock was open to any number of possibilities.

They returned to Auburj and picked up Bashir and Dax, who had experienced some small success. Not in curing anyone. The pregnant woman Bashir had been concerned about had died of the disease. But not before giving birth to her infant, who as a result of the antigens Bashir had been giving her, did not exhibit any of the key indicators for the disease. The next generation of Auburj would be free of sickness.

"That's something at least," said Dax during their briefing with Captain Sisko.

Hudson hummed.

"What is it?" asked Sisko.

Hudson said, "The Dominion wanted to make an example out of the Auburj. So they gave them a plague that would slowly kill them. Now they are examples of Federation medicine. We'll need to put a base nearby to ensure the Dominion doesn't decide to make them an example some other way."

Sisko handed a pad to Sherlock. "It seems the brass agrees. Commodore Lestrade will be setting up a base on Aubrui immediately. He finished completion of the relay station ahead of schedule."

There were some discussions about the Bakerstreet's ongoing assignment.

Irrelevant. John was fine. The Bakerstreet was fine. Sherlock's home was the Bakersteet. Where he went, he was home.

 _From somewhere deep inside him, he heard the sound of an inland sea_.

**Author's Note:**

> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Where_No_Man_Has_Gone_Before  
> I suppose I could also link to the episode "Where no one had gone before" but that's more of a stretch.  
> Less of a stretch would be,  
> https://tv.avclub.com/star-trek-deep-space-nine-the-quickening-body-part-1798176127
> 
> Since the episode, the Quickening, didn't provide a planet name where the plague is occurring, I called it Auberj as Rene Auberjonois (actor who played Odo) directed.  
> Also, it really is illegal for Sherlock to work on his cloaking device.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pegasus_(Star_Trek:_The_Next_Generation)  
> Because in that hold my beer sort of way, rather than trying to create a cloaking device, in the episode Starfleet tries to create something even wackier. Sherlock is creating the same maguffin.  
> For a while, when I started this project, I was driving myself crazy trying to come up with just the right ship for them to be flying, but really wanting it to be a) named Chimera, because these are stories about genetically engineered people b) kind of not much of a ship to begin with.  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Federation_starship_classes  
> Then I thought, the Bakerstreet could be a Pegasus Chimera. i.e., whatever I say it needs to be. So all the other classes of ships are from the list, the Bakerstreet is her own thing.
> 
> For info about the Phase that Mrs. Hudson mentions, see http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Betazoid  
> alometric bartheon –I made up rather than digging around through Trek for ideas.  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Jem%27Hadar  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Vorta


End file.
